Chapitre 63: Fuck up everything that moves.

Any endeavor was called a job if it provided compensation and had a task to be performed. Most took jobs either for wages or to learn a specific skill or trade. There is a very small group who were able to do their jobs for their dreams or purpose in life.

I had never been part of such a group, but when I heard what the mercenaries were supposed to do, my blood began to boil. If I had no dreams or aspirations as a human, it was strange that I found them after being beaten to death.

"Phillip, can you tell me more about the mercenaries?" I asked with a smile.

The butler took off his monocle and gently wiped it with his handkerchief. His face was so expressionless that it seemed robotic. Then he gave a crooked smile as he replied.

"Before I do, Mr. Smith, would you mind telling me why you bothered to ask about the other professions?"